Rissa and Tregare by F M Busby

Author:F M Busby [Busby, F M]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, General, Fiction, Fantasy
ISBN: 9780425071168
Google: M-YI8FXgQdIC
Amazon: 0425071162
Goodreads: 2523135
Publisher: Berkley Books
Published: 1984-07-15T09:29:07+00:00

Calmer now, but still moving in slowed time, she jumped to stand on the chair-steadying herself with one hand to its back, prepared to leap in any direction. Tregare stared as Peralta bucked and kicked, gripping a chair leg in either hand but lacking leverage to free himself.

Now the man kicked both feet into the air-and again, higher. She felt the chair wobble; she reached out, ready to catch a foot and twist it if she had to jump. But Tregare moved forward; as Peralta's legs came up again, he caught each at the ankle and held them nearly vertical. "Now, then-" Rissa was surprised to see that he laughed. "-can we stop this foolishness and sit down and talk?"

Peralta cursed. Then; "Let me go! I can't breathe!"

Tregare nodded to Rissa; she stepped down. "Al right-get up and behave yourself." He moved the chair away and pulled Peralta up. The man felt his neck and jaw, brushed at his clothes. He replaced his chair and sat.

For Rissa, time began to approach its normal pace.

"Damn it, woman-you didn't have to do that! I wasn't-"

"You thrust a knife at Bran Tregare. I had no choice."

"But I only flourished the damned thing and pulled it back."

"And the gun?"

"Just to hold you off me, was all. You had me down, and-"

She shook her head. "No matter, it was too late. You had triggered the-the-" She looked to Tregare. "Time slowed, you see, and my body acted."

Peralta's eyes narrowed. "Berserker! If I'd known that-"

"Not quite the same," said Tregare. "Her mind still works-but when danger triggers the reaction, she's a fighting machine that doesn't stop til it's settled. I have a litle of that myself, but not trained to the peak hers is." Peralta turned to Rissa. "I'm lucky you didn't kill me-right?"

"Thank Tregare for that-I would have."

"Do you still want to?"

"No, the effect is over now. Though I wonder-can Tregare afford to trust you alive?" The man rubbed palms over cheeks and eyes. "I-I can see how you feel. I did it all wrong, didn't I? Got pressured up-you and your waiting game, Tregare-and pushed too hard, too fast." He looked at each of them. "Can we start over now, and talk?"

"Just a minute." Tregare left; when he returned with fresh coffee and mugs, Limmer accompanied him. The two sat.

"I think," said Tregare, "you two have something to settle first."

Limmer's sneer-mask hid whatever he might have felt. Peralta shook his head. "I owe you satisfaction, Limmer-if you want, you can have it. I was half-curdled with tension, but that's no excuse. Would an apology do? Either way, I owe you that."

They all waited-until Limmer said slowly, "Depends on you."

"How's that?"

"The apology suits, for now. But you buck Tregare's authority again- any way-I'll have you for it, then or later."

"You'd go to kill me, you mean?"

"Or let you live, maybe-but with a face like mine, or worse."

For a moment Peralta went rigid; then he breathed deeply. "All right. I apologize, Limmer. And I guess you're being fair enough, considering .

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